


Raised By Wolves

by towblerone



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Gen, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3102089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towblerone/pseuds/towblerone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blackbeard suddenly has the responsibility of a baby girl thrust upon him one night. The only problem is, the girl is a vampire…while he, Benjamin, Edward, and Charles are werewolves. [No pairing.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to tumblr friends for brainstorming with me! This story starts before Thatch has his luxurious beard (but he’ll get it eventually).

"Near half the crew’s missin’," his quartermaster, Israel Hands, informed him.

Currently, The Queen Anne’s Revenge was eerily empty. They were docked in Nassau, but Thatch had been very clear to his crew that they be back by now.

"Probably passed out from drink again, the bastards," he said…but he was beginning to doubt. "S’ppose I’d better go find ‘em and beat some sense into ‘em."

As his boots thumped onto the docks, he shook his head. Over the past few days, men from his crew would stop showing up. It happened slowly at first, but as the days turned into weeks, the number of men dwindled to practically nothing.

And he was not happy; not one bit.

He checked every tavern in town, starting with the Old Avery. There was no sign of any of his men there, but there was a very pungent, disgusting scent that was familiar, but it was something he couldn’t put his finger on, with all the other stenches of Nassau melding together.

He went to another tavern that was smaller and less popular. Again, no crew and again, the same scent he picked up before. He dismissed it as the rotting animal carcasses that most men just cast onto the ground when they were done with them.

The third tavern yielded the same results, and Thatch was truly getting frustrated. He inhaled deeply, trying to get a whiff of any of his men. This time, their scent was much stronger, but so was the mysterious scent that seemed to be following him everywhere he went.

To a werewolf’s trained nose, scents were almost visible in the air. Like little streams of clouds that they could track as if someone left bread crumbs for them to find and follow. He immediately picked up on both scents, and they seemed to lead to the same tree outside of the tavern. Thatch sniffed, and the smell was so strong it almost made him nauseous. He circled around the tree and found a disturbing sight.

One of his men lay there, dead and shriveled, eyes sunken so far into his skull he almost couldn’t see them. The man’s mouth was open in a final scream that was likely cut short. His skin was so tight against his bone it was as though the man had no muscle.

While he pitied the poor sap, he didn’t much care aside from that. Most of the crew was expendable.

He knelt down, trying to stomach the disgusting scent of death, and examined the body. When he got to the neck, he huffed a sigh. It all made sense now.

On the man’s neck were two puncture marks, hardly bigger than those of needles.

Vampires had come to Nassau, and it seemed they didn’t have any plans of leaving any time soon.

—

Benjamin picked his teeth with a nail. After a quick hunt with Edward in the forest, they were both well-fed with rabbit and very content.

It was quiet in Nassau, something Ben greatly appreciated. Edward, Charles, and Thatch were all energetic: they craved the adventure and commotion, and often got restless.

He himself wasn’t really opposed to the action, but the calm agreed with him far better.

He reclined in his seat and was just getting ready for a quick, post-meal snooze, when thick boots thumped over to him.

"Wake up, Ben. It’s urgent."

He groaned and rubbed his temples.

"Hadn’t even fallen asleep yet," he complained. "Can’t it wait a bit?"

"No, it can’t!" he growled. "There’re vampires on the island."

That got his attention. He shot up from his relaxed position and widened his eyes.

"How d’ya know this?"

"Found one o’ my crew bled dry behind a tavern, had the neck marks and all. The stench was all over him."

Ben cursed. Though he, Charles, Thatch, Edward, and Jack were the only werewolves on the island, they’d managed to keep it safe from vampires and the like. Not that many came around anyway.

"They must be getting desperate; coming to the Caribbean."

Thatch snorted.

"Whatever the reason, it needs to be dealt with, else they’ll be killing every human on the island."

"That we can agree on," Ben said.

"You find Kenway, I’ll tell Vane."

Ben nodded. It hadn’t been too long since he’d parted ways with Edward, so it wouldn’t be difficult to find him. That, and he could smell him.

"We’ll take ‘em out, Thatch."

So much for peace and quiet.

—

Once everyone was informed of the situation and the plan - the very hastily tossed-together, un-thought-out plan - the four split up and followed their noses.

Edward expressed his doubt at the efficiency of splitting up.

"Who knows how many we could find?" he pondered aloud. "There could be one, there could be a dozen."

"Aye, but it’s almost the full moon," Ben reasoned, "and this is the time we are the strongest. Those vampires don’t stand a chance."

The blonde made a noncommittal hum, but said nothing else. He raised his nose to the air, inhaled deeply, and pointed of in a direction.

"I’ll go this way," he said. "Good luck, mate."

"Aye, same to you."

Benjamin set off in the opposite direction. Thatch told him to try and avoid crossing paths with any of the others, just to spread out and save time.

He trailed the acrid scent of undead to a small cave just by the northern shoreline. The awful smell was coming from the cave in powerful waves.

"This must be where they’re holed up," he muttered to himself. Or, at least, where some of them were holed up.

He tuned out every sound from his mind and focused on listening for any movement before he rushed in.

The sound of wind, the distant calling of seagulls…

"Aha," he said victoriously. His ears picked up a faint, but definite voice, coming from deep inside the cave.

He stepped inside the cave, not much worried about being quiet. It was well known that while a vampire’s eyesight was vastly superior to a werewolf’s, when it came to scents and sounds, the wolves had the upper hand.

At one point, the cave broke off into several tunnels, but finding the correct one was the opposite of a challenge for his nose and ears. He chose the smallest tunnel, and almost had to crawl through it. When he came out, he was nearly face to face with the creatures he sought.

There were three of them. One female, two males. If his nose couldn’t smell them, he would have though they were ordinary humans.

One screeched, and Ben’s sensitive ears rang with the pain. Vampires had a shrill scream that was excruciating to anyone, but was particularly painful to a werewolf. He doubled over, but when he opened his eyes, they locked with a human girl’s. The poor thing was terrified. He could see the tears streaking down her cheeks.

He had to ignore the pain, if only for this girl’s sake.

Benjamin stood, reached into his coat, and pulled out his dagger that he always kept on him. It was made of pure, undiluted silver, and would deal serious damage to vampires.

He lunged and slashed at one of the males, and as it sliced into the flesh, it produced an audible sizzling noise as the creature began to burn from the cut. He screamed, fell over, and Ben took the opportunity to drive the dagger deep into the vampire’s heart. He gurgled as thick, black blood erupted from his mouth, and in seconds, he was dead.

The other male leaped onto Benjamin’s back, making terrible, guttural noises. The vampire opened his mouth, revealing razor sharp fangs, and made to bite him, but he elbowed the vampire’s chin. Once freed, he slashed its neck with his silver dagger, and it died.

Ben smirked, and turned to face the final opponent, but his blood ran cold when he saw her.

The female vampire, instead of running away, had already bitten into the neck of their human hostage and by the looks of the human girl’s pale skin, she was being drained at an alarming rate. Perhaps the vampire did this just to spite him.

Benjamin darted forward and pushed the knife into the vampire’s back, causing her to sputter and cough up the human’s blood. It landed the poor girl’s face, but the final vampire in the cave had been killed.

He tossed the dead vampiress aside and brought the human into his arms. No sooner than he had put his hands on her neck to check for a pulse did she let out her final breath, and the girl died.

He looked around the cave, and noticed several dead bodies. Vampires only needed one or two humans a week to sustain themselves, and there were well over two dozen bodies. They must have been here for a while.

"Dammit," he cursed as he began to make his way out of the cave. "How did we miss these bastards?"

—

Thatch was on a trail of his own. He’d informed Charles, who had been all too enthusiastic about exterminating the vampires and slinked off to look around in the southeast corner of the island, while Thatch took the southwest corner.

Judging by the overwhelming scent of blood and death, he was close. Very close.

He followed the scent to a small shack that was secluded from the rest of the buildings. It was almost set on the edge of the forest. From inside, he heard a lot of movement and a muffled voice; female by the sound of it.

Thatch loaded his flintlock with a silver cartridge. Without wasting any more time, he kicked down the door.

One male vampire was holding down a female on the ground, covering her mouth with his pale hand. She writhed on the wood, lashing her hands out.

The vampire looked at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Thatch gave him no such chance. He raised the pistol and shot without so much as a second thought. Black blood painted the wooden walls of the shack as the bullet soared into the vampire’s skull.

Thatch slowly walked over to the woman on the floor, who continued to whimper and wiggle. He knelt down, intending to pick her up, but he stopped. Her scent was slowly changing from natural and warm to something foul and sour, as if she were a piece of meat that were rotting before his eyes.

She was undergoing the painful process of becoming a vampire.

A violent cough wracked the woman’s body, and she cracked her eyes open to look at him. She was sweating profusely and he could see her veins turning black through her skin.

"Damn you," she whispered, "I wanted this… I wanted it." 

He couldn’t just leave her like this.

"I am sorry," he whispered to her, pulling out a silver dagger similar to Benjamin’s. "Truly."

He plunged the knife into her heart.

It wasn’t murder; not to him. To him…it was a mercy.

She cried out in pain as the silver caused her flesh to almost bubble, and in her final moment of life, she craned her neck and reached with one hand to something in the corner of the room, before her eyes clouded over and she died in his arms.

He removed the knife from her chest with a sickening squelch of blood, wiped it clean on her dress, and stood to leave.

That’s when a soft cooing stopped him in his tracks. He turned and immediately found the source.

A crib was tucked away in the corner of the room, and in it was a baby.

He was confused on how he missed the child. Babies had a distinctive, soft, sweet smell. Perhaps it was due to all the blood and death at his feet.

His boots clumped on the wood floor as he crossed the room to stand by the child’s crib. His ears picked up no sound but the child’s babbling. He scooped the baby into his arms, and when his fingers felt its cold skin, he understood why he hadn’t smelt it. It was because it carried the same scent as the others.

They turned a fucking child. They put a baby through that pain.

"Despicable," he said and spat at the dead body of the male vampire.

He still held the child in his arms, and felt his anger rising at the fact that she lacked a heartbeat, but still could breathe, still could make sounds.

Thatch felt his stomach flip when he realized he would have to kill the child.

He placed it back into the crib and pulled the dagger out again, throat tightening with each movement of his muscles. He gulped, and raised the knife into the air, just above the baby.

The child looked at him with its red eyes, and when they met his own hazel ones, it smiled, fangs and all.

And he couldn’t do it.

"This ain’t your fault," he said, and shoved the dagger back into its sheathe.

"I ain’t gonna punish ya for this."

—

Benjamin met with Charles and Edward at the Old Avery once he had completed the task.

"Where’s Thatch?" Edward asked.

"Not sure. He said to meet him here when we’re done," Ben replied. "You don’t think the old man finally bit off more then he could chew?"

"That ain’t the case," Thatch said as he walked up the stairs to the tavern.

Edward laughed, not even turning to look at his mentor.

"Pay up," he said to Charles, who scowled and slipped a few Reales into Edward’s hands.

"Christ, Thatch, couldn’t you’ve just gotten yourself into some real trouble, just this once?" Charles teased, sipping on his drink. Thatch chuckled in response.

"Not this time," he said, distracted.

Ben looked up from his own drink. Thatch held something in his arms. Before he could ask what it was, however, the object in question answered his question before he could ask it.

The child in Thatch’s arms let out a soft noise, and Ben tensed.

"Is that a fucking baby?” he barked.

At that, Charles and Edward looked up from what they were doing, eyes curiously trained on Thatch, who blinked back at Ben.

"It is," he said.

Charles stood, his stool scratching on the wood as it was pushed backwards, and strutted over to stand beside Thatch.

"Why the hell do you have a…" He trailed off as he caught a scent. He inhaled. "Let me see it."

Charles held out his hands, indicating he wanted to hold it. Thatch bristled.

"You hurt a single hair on its head, Vane, and I’ll tear you apart.”

He said this with a snarl, and bared his fangs at the man to let him know he was entirely serious.

"Yes, fine, just let me see the damned thing," Charles said with a roll of his eyes.

Thatch continued to glare for a moment, but very slowly and very carefully handed the baby to him.

Charles furrowed his brows and immediately relied on his sense of smell. He brought the baby’s head to his nose, sniffed, and recoiled in horror. He sent a furious glance at the black-haired man, who clearly wanted the baby back.

"Thatch…" when he spoke, his voice was low and threatening. "It’s bad enough you bring a damn baby back with ya, but a vampire?"

Benjamin heard Charles’ words, and sprang out of his seat.

"Have you lost your fucking mind, Thatch!?" he shouted.

Edward stood as well, but he didn’t seem upset. Only interested.

Charles tore his eyes off Thatch and back to the baby. He bared his teeth at it and snarled menacingly, hoping it would start to cry. But it had the opposite effect than what was desired. The child shrieked with joyful laughter, and raised a chubby hand to prod at his nose. He snorted indignantly, and the child laughed again.

"Take the damn thing," Charles grumbled, handing it back to Thatch.

"I couldn’t ‘ave just left her there," Thatch said to Ben, trying to reason.

"Yes, you could have," Ben hissed. "And you should have. No, you should have killed it!”

Benjamin sighed and ran his palm over his face.

"It’s not one of our kind, Thatch."

"She."

"What?"

“She is not one of our kind,” Thatch corrected. “She’s a girl.”

"I don’t fucking care! Either get rid of it or I will."

He tensed, holding his hand protectively over the girl.

"Just you try it," he threatened. "Let’s find out what happens."

The tension between the two men was palpable. Edward stepped in, breaking their eye contact.

"Let’s all just calm down before someone gets hurt," he soothed. "Now, Thatch. Tell us how you came across the child."

He recounted the story to them. About the death of the woman, who he was almost sure must have been the girl’s mother. About how repulsed he had been when he realized they had turned a baby. How he almost killed it.

"I wasn’t about to kill an innocent child," he said. Charles scoffed.

"Ain’t nothin’ innocent about its kind," he said scornfully.

"But she ain’t done nothin’ herself," Thatch argued. "She didn’t deserve to die just for bein’.”

A long moment of tense silence passed through them. Finally, Ben turned to Edward.

"And what about you?" he asked. "You’ve not said your opinion on the matter."

The blonde was quiet. His blue eyes darted between Thatch and Ben, once or twice to the girl.

"I trust Thatch," he said firmly after a moment of waiting. "If he thinks the child is harmless, I believe him."

Charles almost roared with rage, before he stormed off without uttering another word.

Benjamin glared cold daggers at both other men, but heaved a sigh.

"Fine, keep the damn thing," he surrendered. "But I’m not helpin’ ya take care of it. You’re on your own for that."

With that, he marched away, leaving Edward and Thatch alone with the girl.

"I’m afraid I’m with Ben there," Edward said. "I know nothing about children, let alone vampire children."

Thatch only shrugged.

“‘s fine. I’ll care for her meself.”

Edward nodded, looking at the baby.

"Has she a name?"

Both men were quiet. Thatch was thinking, and Edward waited.

"Eleanor."


	2. Chapter 2

Eleanor was silent as the grave throughout the night. Despite that fact, Thatch did not rest peacefully. He was constantly getting up to check on her, make sure she was still alive…in a sense. Each time, he was relieved to find her wide awake and staring back at him with wide red eyes. When he slept, it was only an hour at a time, with the next hour trying to get back to sleep with the nagging worry of her not being alive the next time lingering.

This left him exhausted the next day.

He stayed inside with her during the day, and she snoozed, cradled in his arms, in the darkest corner he could find for her.

He supposed their nocturnality made sense. While the sunlight wouldn’t kill her or burn her skin like so many people liked to believe, it would sap at her strength, and she’d be writhing and gasping for air within an hour. He’d seen it before on a vampire who’d joined his crew once, trying to pass as human.

He was swiftly sent off the next time they made port.

He didn’t kill him. Most of the time, Thatch preferred his encounters with vampires to end without any fatalities on either side. He had nothing against them, like Hornigold and Vane seemed to.

The only reason last night happened the way it did was because they were a threat to him, his pack, and every human on the island. Strictly business.

Eleanor cried once and only once that day, and it almost couldn’t have been called that. She had finally fallen asleep, and Thatch was going to put her down and quickly take care of some business, but the minute he took his hands off her, she began whimpering, letting out light sobs, holding her hands out to him.

It didn’t take much “convincing” for him to scoop her up again.

He tried again a few times, but each yielded the same results, so he settled down with her. Dozed off himself.

He was awakened a few hours later by Israel, who opened without knocking. Or, perhaps he did knock, but Thatch was just too tired to hear it.

"Captain?"

When he opened the door, a beam of light was cast directly onto Eleanor. She whined and burrowed her face into his chest, and he used one hand to cover her skin.

"What is it?" he said groggily.

"I was just wondering why you hadn’t come out of your cabin all day. You’re usually up bright and early."

Thatch yawned. He had to remove his arm from it’s protective position over Eleanor to cover his mouth.

"Not today, Mr. Hands," he said. "And…we’ll be staying docked for a while. Haven’t decided how long yet."

Israel nodded, but he had caught a glimpse of little Eleanor.

"Captain…is that a-"

"Yes, it’s a baby."

"Oh…why do you have-"

"I reckon that’s not your business, Mr. Hands."

He glared at Israel until he looked away to avoid his piercing eyes.

"Aye, sir. I’ll let the crew know we’ll be stayin’ in Nassau."

Israel turned to leave, finally shutting the door so he could stop shielding Eleanor from the sunlight. But when he looked down at her, she was now wide awake and staring at him. He groaned.

It had taken hours for her to finally fall asleep.

—

The next night was the first time since he found Eleanor that he left his cabin. He was still drained of energy and struggled to stay awake, but he figured a walk would help.

Maybe a drink as well.

His walk from the Queen Anne’s Revenge to the Old Avery was a short, but pleasant one as he carried Eleanor with him. The hot tropical air grew cooler as the sky grew darker. The smell of the island was still unpleasant, especially with the lingering stench of vampire - though the threat was long gone - but he associated the smell with home.

When he entered the Old Avery, it was mostly empty, save for Edward, who was nursing a bottle of rum, and Anne, who sat with him. Edward caught sight of him and waved him over with a smile.

"Good of you to join us," he said. He patted the seat beside him, and Thatch nodded, grateful that Edward was still friendly enough.

"Evenin’, Kenway. Miss Bonny." His voice was deep and tired.

Anne raised her eyebrows at the bundle in his arms.

"Thatch, is that a child you’re holdin’?" she said, her Irish accent thick with every word.

It seemed he’d be getting that question a lot from now on. Not that it was very surprising. What was surprising was the fact he had a child at all.

"Aye."

"Is it a girl or a boy?" Anne continued to inquire about her.

"Girl."

Anne’s beautiful smile only got wider.

"May I hold ‘er, Thatch?"

He froze. Eleanor had hardly left his arms in the past two days, and it would be good for his muscles to be in some position other than cradling her. But she was a vampire, and Anne was a human.

They needed food far less often than human offspring, but they needed it more often than fully-matured, adult vampires. And he had yet to feed her.

Even the babies would get the instinct to feed on a living being’s blood.

But it wasn’t as though he was going to hand her the baby and walk off. He’d be there to take her back if she tried to sink her teeth into the redhead.

Her eyes gleamed red, but they were dark enough to pass as brown. Anne wouldn’t suspect…he hoped.

Then again, why would she suspect? To most humans, vampires were mythical, as were werewolves.

"Alright by me," he replied finally, "just mind her head."

Anne stood and moved to stand in front of him. She held her arms out to take her, and she was very gentle in doing so. She mimicked Thatch’s posture and looked down at the baby in her arms with awe.

"Isn’t she just precious?" Anne said, not looking away. "Does she have a name?"

"Eleanor."

His responses, he noticed, had become terse. Perhaps it was due to his fatigue.

"Is she yours? If I’m not to bold to ask ye, that is."

"She ain’t born from any woman I’ve bedded," he explained, not sparing his dirty language. Anne wasn’t much of a lady, and she had a foul mouth herself at times, anyway. "But she’s mine now."

Anne made a small “oh”, and her questions ceased. He was glad for that. If she asked where she came from, he’d come up with a story or something, but he was never the best liar.

Eleanor seemed to be warming up to Anne quite easily. As the beautiful woman cooed and fawned over her, she giggled. When Anne tickled her gently, she squealed with laughter and grabbed at her fingers with her tiny hands.

Edward stood, and beckoned for Thatch to follow. They didn’t go far, but just far enough to stay out of Anne’s hearing range.

"Y’know, it’s been two days since you locked yourself up in your cabin. Ben was starting to worry that the baby ate you," Edward said, and he wasn’t sure if it was intended to be a joke or not.

"No, just keepin’ her out of the sun is all."

They looked back at Anne, who was happily smiling down at Eleanor, who placed one of Anne’s fingers in her mouth. Edward tensed, and Thatch began to walk back over to take her away, but Anne removed her finger.

He’d had a look inside her mouth. She had yet to grow all her teeth except two: her fangs. It would seem they grew quite early; most likely to ensure the baby could feed. He just hoped Anne wouldn’t notice.

Edward sighed in relief.

"When’s the last time you fed her?"

Thatch was silent for a moment.

"Haven’t yet, truth be told," he replied. Edward groaned and rubbed his temples.

"You hand a baby vampire with an empty stomach to a human? Anne’s not safe right now!"

"You think she’s dangerous, then?" he growled.

"When she’s hungry, aye!" Edward barked back. "You need to feed her…or she’s going to feed herself shortly."

"Well, what do you suggest? Just walk up to someone and let the little thing latch onto their neck?"

"I never said it had to be human," Edward said. "Just give her a rat or something."

"And who will be getting this for her? You?" When Edward didn’t reply right away, Thatch snorted. "Then you can watch her while I hunt for somethin’.”

"Thatch, I told you, I know nothing of caring for children."

"All you have to do is hold her until I get back, Kenway. Ain’t hard. Now, go take her from Anne before one of ‘em gets hurt."

Without leaving room to argue, Thatch left in the direction of the small forest.

—

The second Ben caught the scent of the vampire in the air, his throat made a noise that reminded him of far-off thunder. It was a hint of a growl, but not enough of a growl to really be considered one.

He stomped up the stairs, expecting to see Thatch holding the little abomination, but instead found Edward holding it in his place. He snorted.

"Playin’ wet nurse for Thatch, are ye?" he joked, but his voice was filled with anger. Edward made no acknowledgement of his mocking.

"He’s off hunting for her. Can’t hunt with a baby."

"He should’ve though of that before he decided to keep it."

"It’s only for a little while, just until he gets back," Edward reasoned. "It ain’t a problem."

Benjamin strutted over to the bar and ordered himself a drink. He kept the baby in the corner of his eye the entire time. Edward noticed this, and said nothing until Ben took his drink and sat down at a table far from him.

"Avoiding me now as well?" Edward said from across the room. He didn’t have to speak too loudly, as his friend’s ears could pick up the dropping of a pin.

"I don’t trust the damn thing."

"For God’s sake, Ben, she’s an infant, she can’t even walk!"

"It’s a freak, Kenway," he snarled. "A monster. It’ll feed on anything with a heartbeat without a shred of remorse and you know it…” he had a thought.

"Even a werewolf."

"Vampires can’t drink our blood, Ben," he snapped. "And you know that."

The only kind of blood a vampire couldn’t drink was a werewolf’s blood. It was poisonous to them.

The blood would pass their mouth and down their throat as easily as a human’s. Wouldn’t taste much different, either. After all, werewolves were still half human.

But once it reached their stomach, even the smallest drop would be like acid, and burn them from the inside out for a painful death. Even another vampire’s blood was safer to drink.

Ben stood from his seat and walked closer.

"Aye, I do know that," he said slyly, "but it doesn’t.”

He bit his finger hard enough to draw blood and waved it underneath Eleanor’s nose. Her eyes grew wide, and smelling the prospective meal, she opened her mouth, revealing her tiny fangs, and prepared to chomp down.

Edward snarled and slapped his hand away.

"Try that again and I’ll tear you open myself," he threatened. Ben rolled his eyes.

"Come on, Kenway! We’ll be done with this problem, and if Thatch asks, we can say it bit us before we could stop it."

"No," he said again. "I’m not going behind his back like this."

Edward’s sea-blue eyes clashed against Benjamin’s steely-gray ones. Both refused to back down. Neither wanted to fight the other, but Edward would, if it came down to it.

Ben relented with a frustrated sigh.

"Fine," he growled. "But I’m warning you. That thing is dangerous."

—

Thatch raised his head, tested the air with his nose, and immediately caught a whiff of rabbit.

He’d scoffed in his mind when Kenway suggested a rat. As if he would let something that dirty anywhere near Eleanor’s mouth. He would get her a proper meal.

He’d left his hat back at the tavern, and his coat, boots, and weapons as well, save for a small knife. The less equipment he carried, the easier it would be to hunt. Most hunters would bring guns and long blades, but he found these to be cumbersome and noisy.

He preferred to hunt with his hands.

Thatch silenced his breathing when he heard the rustling of grass and leaves, and the smell of rabbit grew stronger.

He waited patiently in the cover of a patch of long grass. The wind was to his advantage. It was a headwind, which meant his prey likely couldn’t smell him.

At last, the rabbit hopped into his view. It was a nice, fat little thing. Perfect prey. He waited for it to get closer. He’d chosen to hide himself in a patch of grass that he knew rabbits enjoyed munching on. Made for an easier hunt, as they came to him.

Once he had deemed it was close enough, he sprang from his cover and pounced, his claws pinning it to the earth. It let out a shrill cry, but he quickly silenced it by breaking its neck.

Thatch always felt so…exhilarated after a hunt, no matter how short of how small the take.

"This should be enough for ‘er," he said to himself. She was only a baby, after all.

He’d made sure not to pierce the skin, in fear it would lose blood on the way back to the tavern and there wouldn’t be enough for Eleanor to feed on.

The body was limp and heavy in his fist as he sauntered back to the Old Avery.

When he arrived, he could smell Benjamin’s scent, as well as a hint of the metallic twang of his blood, and his heart raced. He flew up the stairs, his kill swinging wildly, expecting to see his old friend wounded, but he appeared just fine.

"Thatch," Benjamin said with a nod before sipping his drink once more.

"What happened?" he said, panting lightly. "I smelled yer blood."

"Nicked my hand on a piece ‘o wood, is all."

He was lying, Thatch could tell. After knowing the man for just over a decade now, he knew Hornigold like the back of his hand.

But he ignored that for now, and beckoned for Edward to bring Eleanor to him . They stepped out of sight of any humans, to a dark, shadowed area behind the tavern.

"That for her?" Edward said, pointing to the rabbit in his hand. When Thatch nodded, Edward was pleased. "Should keep her satisfied for a while…I hope."

It was then they realized they had absolutely no idea how they were going to get Eleanor to feed on the fresh prey. Would she bite through its fur and not care? Would they have to shave an area of its neck bald?

"How should we do this?" Edward asked, looking curiously down at Eleanor.

Thatch held the rabbit up to Eleanor’s nose, and she dug her fingers into its velvety soft fur and babbled nonsensically, but didn’t make any move to bite into it.

"Let’s try this," Thatch said, and with his teeth, he tore a hole into the neck. A small pool of blood accumulated, but he was careful not to let it spill out.

This time, when he offered it to Eleanor, she smelled the aroma of the blood and went into a frenzy. Her small mouth latched around the hole and she sucked with all her might. Her eyes, wide open and glassy, had turned bright red as opposed to the dark burgundy they were before.

Edward watched both disturbed and fascinated as the rabbit, almost as large as Eleanor herself, was drained within minutes. When she came to realize she had emptied it and would be getting no more blood, she let go of the carcass. She had blood dribbling down her chin, and there was some on her hands.

She looked up at Edward, who still held her, but was now wary. She laughed, and stretched her hands up to smear blood in his blonde stubble. Edward inhaled sharply when he felt the blood, but Thatch laughed.

"Ye act like you’ve never had a bit o’ blood on your face before, lad!" he chuckled, and using a small handkerchief, he began to clean Eleanor’s face and hands. Edward used his sleeve to clean his own.

"Sorry," Edward offered.

"The lil’ thing likes ya, Kenway," he said as he tried to take Eleanor away from Edward, but she resisted, clinging to the blond. "Doesn’t want me to take her back."

Edward looked down, and when his blue eyes met hers, they had returned to dark red. She reached up again, with clean hands, and rubbed her hands back and forth in his light beard, gurgling joyfully. He felt something warm in his chest rising. Her hands moved from his cheeks to stroke his nose, and he could tell that Thatch saw his face softening.

"She’s cute," he finally said. "Though it pains me to admit."

Thatch didn’t expect him to come to like her right away; to grow fond of something that is the opposite of you in every way, shape and form…it would take time, if it happened at all.

So he said nothing.

Together, they walked back up the stairs into the Old Avery. About halfway up, Eleanor began to reach for Thatch, so Edward passed her over.

At the same time, Charles came walking up, purposely ignoring them both men. As he passed, Eleanor caught sight of him and began to reach for him, almost jumping right out of Thatch’s arms to get to him. She successfully grabbed hold of the cuff of Charles’ coat sleeve, while Thatch struggled to keep hold of her.

When his arm was tugged by her, Charles stopped. His chaotic brown hair rose, flaring out slightly around his head. His entire figure was tense. When he turned his head, his eyes were furious and his teeth glinted in the dim light, revealing two thick canine teeth.

"Don’t touch me, filth!" he snarled at her.

Without hesitation, Thatch roared at him, baring his own larger fangs at Charles. He backed down almost immediately, and slinked away. He took a seat by Ben, who usually didn’t tolerate Charles, but it seemed they were united in their dislike for the child.

Eleanor continued to reach for Charles from across the room, whining and threatening to cry, undaunted by his aggression. But Edward and Thatch worked together to distract her, and eventually she was content to tug on Edward’s blond locks.

Thatch bid Edward farewell, and to Ben and Charles as well, though they ignored him. He took Eleanor on a walk through Nassau. People knew him, even if he didn’t know them, and seemed astonished to see him holding a child. They whispered among each other.

He paid no mind to the gossip. Instead, he focused on the look of glee on Eleanor’s face as she was dazzled by people’s lanterns, and by the fireflies that flitted around in the air.

He walked with her until the sky began to turn from deep indigo, freckled with stars, to a steely gray-blue. The sun began to rise, and Eleanor began to yawn. So he retired to his cabin once more, preparing to sleep the day away with her.

He would really have to figure out a way to fix this. She may be naturally nocturnal, but he was not. Perhaps when she got older, he would work it out. But until he could find that solution, he would be active during the night unless he could get Edward to care for her from time to time. It would likely be necessary, as a pirate couldn’t spend his days locked up.

Thatch settled down with Eleanor in his arms again. Until he could get her a proper crib, his chest would have to do. But Eleanor didn’t seem to mind, and she fell asleep on him easily.

As he looked at her sleeping face, he wondered how anyone could ever think something so tiny and sweet was dangerous…a monster.

He sighed, and brushed his calloused hand delicately over the top of her soft head.

"Ye may not be my child by blood," he said quietly as not to wake her, "but I’ll be your father now. And I’ll make sure you’re somethin’ I can be proud of."


End file.
